


Bad Hair Day?

by springburn



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hair Washing, Love Stories, Romance, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 23:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5068972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Has Clara noticed the Doctor and his floofy hair problem?</p>
<p>He hopes not! </p>
<p>Then the two have a sticky adventure.........</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Hair Day?

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt by @millerdoc thank you so much!! 
> 
> I loved it because I felt so sad and melancholy after tonight's DW episode, I needed a nice little lighthearted whouffaldi story to give my poor battered heart a rest!! 
> 
> "Quick prompt? (if you're fee and in the mood, lol) The Doctor's hair is a major erogenous zone and he's hiding the fact from Clara. Well, he might think he's successfully hiding it but Clara's spotted a pattern. How does she use it to move their relationship forward?"

BAD HAIR DAY?

 

He only had it cut when absolutely necessary.  
Which was why it went from crew cut to major floof.  
Visible from outer space.  
Ridiculous.  
He'd tried cutting it himself.  
Disaster.  
He looked as if he'd been attacked by moths.  
Large mutant moths.  
He'd finally found the solution on Argon Beta Three.  
A machine cut.....machine fits over the head.......cuts the hair......all done by robots......simple!  
But a hell of a long way to go just to visit the barbers!"

Whenever Clara was on board, he made sure he had a shower and a hair wash before she arrived.  
Couldn't let her see that.  
Even combing it was a trial, when she was around.  
For goodness sake.  
Trouble was, his hands strayed to his head all the time.  
Didn't know he was doing it.  
Long elegant fingers, running through it.  
Combing it into strands, teasing it, fluffing it up, playing with it, smoothing it back, making it stand on end. 

He'd seen her watching.....on more than one occasion.  
Diversion tactics.  
The thumb bite.  
Interlacing his fingers in front of him, cracking his knuckles.  
Rubbing his chin, or scratching a cheek.  
Anything to ward off that amused gaze.  
Those huge brown eyes, flicking up to his thick grey locks, then back to his face.  
The ghost of a smile.  
Did she know?

oOo

Running, always some running.  
Lucky to escape.  
Neither of them entirely unscathed.  
The sticky net, woven by the alien spider...type......thingy.....  
A vast complex web.  
Strands, coated with a sweet nectar, like Gales honey.  
Thick, viscous, yellow. 

He ran right through it.  
Never saw it until the last moment.  
Damn it!  
It was all over him. 

It stung.  
Burned.  
He needed to be rid of it, and fast.  
Stripping off his clothes, that was easy.  
But his hair......it clung like chewing gum.  
Would he have to shave it off?  
Oh god, here she comes.....try to look unconcerned!  
"Doctor? Are you okay?"  
"Absolutely fine! Why wouldn't I be?"  
"Oh you poor thing.....what a mess you look!"  
"I'll be fine!"  
"Let me help you......"  
He backed away, nervous.  
Embarrassed.  
"No, Clara, I can manage."  
"Don't be silly. You can't possibly do it alone......let me! Please Doctor!"  
He sighed.  
Resigned himself.  
Handed himself over to her ministrations.  
"Sit. Relax. Lean back."  
He sat, he stiffened, he stayed upright.  
She'd pulled up a chair, in front of the sink, turned on the water spray.  
Pushed his shoulders, forcing him down onto the chair.  
Towel wrapped around him.  
"Doctor......I'm not going to hurt you. Lean back, it'll be over in no time."  
The back of his neck resting on the rim of the sink, her hand underneath, cushioning.  
Her small fingers taking the weight of his head, he swallowed thickly.  
Warm water flowed from the spray as she began wetting him, starting at the front quiff, then down to those darker curls at the back.  
He stifled a sigh.  
Laying the shower head aside, she squirted the shampoo onto her palms and began to wash gently.  
Scent of coconut.  
Both hands moving rhythmically in a circular motion......soft.......gentle touch, soothing and oh so wonderful!  
Working the soap into a lather, her nails against his scalp, caressing, combing her fingers through with a deft scratch.  
Just enough to make him tingle all over.  
She hummed to herself as she worked.  
Her eyes taking in the delicate folds of his neck, bent backwards as it was, exposing his throat to her, his Adam's apple, and the little hollow at the base where his collar bones met, the pulse of his carotid artery beating his life force just below the skin.  
The way the muscle and sinew strained upwards towards the velvet softness of his ear.  
His brow relaxed, the temples furrowed slightly, she, massaging her finger tips over them, as his eyes fluttered shut, entering a state of blissful reverie, no longer able to form a coherent thought.  
She rinsed, pushing the suds backwards, away from his face.  
Then her movement stilled, as her gaze fastened on his sensual mouth, the curve of his lips, the minuscule prickles of grey stubble just coming through on his chin.  
"Clara?....."  
His eyes popped open, and he was looking up at her, as she leaned over him, her face inches from his own.  
Questioning, wondering why she had stopped.  
"Doctor?..." Her voice was unreliable......"I.......sorry.......I ......."  
Before she was even quite sure what she was doing she leaned down, and placed her lips on his, barely brushing at first, but then becoming more forceful as he opened to her, as if drinking her in, his tongue touching hers, he was kissing her back, firmly, confidently, a little whimper coming from him as his arms pulled her closer, holding her fast.  
The spray from the shower head shot up the wall, and onto the floor, but both were oblivious, to its soaking destruction.  
She moved round to straddle his lap, his head still back, she broke the contact, only long enough to move the kisses down that neck, her mouth sucking and marking in a frenzy of passion.  
"Oh Clara!" He whispered.  
Sitting up, water dripping down his face and into his eyes, his arms encircled her, took her weight, and he stood up, she held firmly in front of him, legs around his body, ankles crossed over his rump.  
Peppering her with hot kisses, the trickle of wetness from his head, doing nothing to cool his ardour.  
Her hands went up into his damp hair, mussing it, causing it to spring into tight curls, steel grey corkscrews, framing his beautiful face.  
"So.....touching your hair? What's that all about then?"  
She giggled, as he, still carrying her, firmly held in his embrace, made his way to the bedroom.  
"No idea.....it's just a thing......"  
"A Timelord thing? Or just a thing......?"  
"Not sure......but it's definitely a thing......"  
Reaching the door, he kicked it open, entered and lay her gently down, his body partly over hers.  
"Clara, my Clara.......you can wash my hair any time you like......."  
"With pleasure," she kissed him again, and began to undo the buttons of his shirt.  
"Can't risk you having a bad hair day......!"


End file.
